


A Striking Pair

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Flash Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Rare Pairings, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: Late at night, Barry finds something disconcerting carved into HR's drumstick.For Sheneya's prompt on tumblr:Earth-1’s Harrison Wells was murdered by Eobard Thawne and had his body stolen.Earth-2’s Harry Wells has seemingly never met any Eobard Thawne’s before he came to Earth-1.Earth-19’s HR Wells is a little worried about what will happen when Team Flash discovers that he’s dating the honestly quite lovely and kind Earth-19 version of Eobard Thawne.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Had an urge to fill this last night :) I changed the prompt a little, but not overly much.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

HR wasn’t sure he believed in anything like fate. How could he, when they were trying so hard to change a supposedly pre-determined future? Still, he couldn’t help but feel like there was a kind of messy, underhanded, two-faced something or other afoot, when three pretty impossible things came together at the end of a long day:

1\. He was alone in the speed lab with BA (who, astoundingly, didn’t seem to care for his company much).

2\. One of HR’s drumsticks accidentally flew out of his hand and across the room (which _never_ happened— _rude_ ).

3\. It was the left drumstick.

( _God dammit_ ).

“Oh no,” he whispered, because one didn’t curse in the presence of ladies, gentlemen, or heroes, all of which made up his family here on Earth 1. So HR swallowed down the string he wanted to let loose and instead skittered towards Barry, hands up in a desperate ‘don’t shoot!’ gesture. Maybe it should have been more of a ‘stop!’ motion though—he was already flapping his hands instead, a curious collection of “sorry!”s and “my bad!”s “no need!”s tumbling out of his mouth—but by then it was too late, much too late, what with BA picking it up and all that.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

HR saw the exact moment Barry spotted the words carved small into the wood, right at the drumstick’s base. He didn’t need a speedster’s speed to catch the millisecond when Barry’s expression changed from polite boredom to shock. Rage. Betrayal.

HR _felt_ his body slam up against wall.

“Hold your mules there, BA!” he said, writhing a bit as Barry— _wow_ —held him a few inches above the ground. HR could feel how hot the kid was, nearly pressed chest-to-chest as they were, and that fearsome, staggering strength became all the more impressive when Barry released one hand to dangle the drumstick in front of his nose.

“Why—” he growled.

“Now, BA—”

“—do you have—”

“—there’s a perfectly reasonable—”

“ _HR!_ ”

Barry shook him a bit and HR’s head lolled. He wasn’t scared though. Not just because Barry _could_ never hurt him, but because it was clear to anyone with eyes that he didn’t _want_ to. HR knew a thing or two about covering one emotion with another, and Barry’s anger was definitely covering up something sharper.

Sure enough, his voice finally cracked on the name.

“Why do you have… dammit, HR, why do you have ‘ _Eobard Thawne_ ,’ on this?” Barry shook the drumstick again, finally tossing it away like it burned his very skin. Maybe it did. He seethed his words and clenched his fists, even as his eyes begged for an explanation.

And hell, HR couldn’t deny the kid anything. He never could.

So he shrugged, as best as he was able. HR plastered on a smile and opened up his mouth. All he’d ever really had were words.

“Because I love him,” he blurted, babbled, deciding then and there that there could only be truth between them. “I… ha. BA. He’s nothing like yours. I assume! I mean, only ever read the logs. Couldn’t—couldn’t mention him after that, right? And, no offense, but you lot were a little skimpy on the end there—you gotta finish the story!—but—but! I swear he’s not the evil megalomaniac you all had going on here. Not the ‘fill your drawers’ sort of guy. He’s just, he’s…”

HR trailed off. Because it had never been just words, had it? He knew the _written_ word.

So he raised the other drumstick still clenched in his hand. HR watched Barry’s gaze skitter over the ‘ _Harrison Wells_ ’ carving. A matched pair. 

“He’s not someone who knows who I am,” he finally whispered. “Mr. Thawne is a genius on my Earth, everything the public thought I was and everything I wanted to be. It’s not like we had a chance or anything, you know? And then I took this trip and met you all and now I’m _dead_ over there, so… Fate, maybe. Not a possibility, is what I mean. He doesn’t _know_ me, BA. Never will. Heh, I don’t think he’d like me if he did. No one else does.”

Something flickered then, an important switch was thrown, and Barry gently lowered HR back to the ground. He unfurled his hands from HR’s shirt and slowly smoothed down the wrinkles. The soft touch was electrifying. It felt like an apology.

“Horses,” Barry said, voice raw.

HR blinked. “What now?”

“Horses, HR. It’s ‘hold your horses’ here.”

“Oh—oh! Perfect. Got it. Totally got it.”

 _That_ was an apology.

Barry wandered away and HR just stood there, simultaneously hollowed out and full from having finally _told_ someone. It was a curious feeling. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked it.

Barry picked up the drumstick. It looked for a moment like he wanted to snap it in two… but then he tossed it over. HR fumbled to catch it, clutching it carefully against his chest.

“HR?”

“Yeah, BA?”

“Don’t tell anyone else.”

“No. ‘Course not.”

Barry took a huge breath. His back was turned, but there was a steely set to his shoulders that spoke of decisions made. “And…”

“…And?”

“If you ever get the chance, take your own advice. What you said to Jesse.”

_When it comes to love you’ve got to go for it! Because if you don’t, you’re gonna end up being the kind of person that lives the rest of their life with regret._

_Choice is stronger than fate._

HR was left alone in the speed lab then, his own words ringing in his head and an unnoticed tear tracking down his cheek. He stood there a long time, clutching his drumsticks and wondering how you thanked someone for a gift like that. For acceptance in the face of unfathomable odds.

But you didn’t need to thank heroes.

“Still,” he murmured. “I’ll get BA some coffee tomorrow. Some of Jitter’s good stuff. Yep…”

HR went forward, two drumsticks in hand—the left one tapping up near his heart.


End file.
